


Seven minutes in heaven

by LadyMiddlefinger



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, POV Sansa Stark, Seven Minutes In Heaven Game, Uncle-Niece Relationship, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 01:48:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20201728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMiddlefinger/pseuds/LadyMiddlefinger
Summary: This stupid game, Sansa thought, staring ahead into the darkness. She was standing in her own build-in closet, waiting for Joffrey to enter as well. Seven minutes in heaven. More like seven minutes in hell.Tears started burning in her eyes. She felt humiliated beyond anything else, though disappointment in herself and all her so-called friends took over. Why had she ever believed someone like Joffrey would have only the slightest interest in her?





	Seven minutes in heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Hi you lovely people! This idea wanted to be written, so here's a little oneshot for you! I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Please keep in mind that Sansa's 16 in this story, thus underage.

This stupid game, Sansa thought, staring ahead into the darkness. She was standing in her own build-in closet, waiting for Joffrey to enter as well. Seven minutes in heaven. More like seven minutes in hell.

Tears started burning in her eyes. She felt humiliated beyond anything else, though disappointment in herself and all her so-called friends took over. Why had she ever believed someone like Joffrey would have only the slightest interest in her?

Her shaking hands covered her face in an attempt not to fully burst into tears. She had put on her nicest dress for her party, for Joffrey, wore her silky red hair into a loose ponytail and even bought expensive lingerie. Damn it. She spent money worth a month's loan for it. How could she be so unbelievable stupid? She turned 16, not 12. At least she thought she did. 

She had invited all her friends over, made sure her parents and siblings were out and about, so she could have lots of fun and, most importantly, some time alone with her crush.

It was five minutes in, still she could only hear silence from the other side of the door. Sansa started to sob. She would stay here for the whole night, she decided. It didn't even matter because it seemed like everyone had already left. Stupid game. Stupid girl.

Suddenly the door to her room started creaking, then she heard footsteps approaching her closet. She turned around, facing the wall. She couldn't stand how her heart starting beating faster. Could it be that she was wrong? Her hands started shaking some more while she tried to wipe the tears from her eyes. Then she heart the doorknob turning. When door opened, she closed her eyes. Then she heard someone entering the closet, closing the door behind her. 

Sansa's heart hammered in her chest. She felt a hand on her shoulder, gently trying to turn her around.

With her eyes still closed she turned around slowly, face pointing towards the floor.

The next thing she felt was a thumb stroking her cheek. She couldn't breathe, couldn't muster the courage to open her eyes.

"Breath sweetling. It's ok. I'm here."

Her eyes flew open in an instant. She knew this velvety voice, knew it well. And it wasn't Joffrey's.

"W-what...Uncle Petyr, what are you doing here?" Her question came out as a whisper. She would have stepped aside and left within a second, wouldn't it be for his eyes staring tenderly back at her. Even in the darkness she could make out his eyes. And his lips to which her eyes wandered unconsciously. 

"Why are you here?" She tried again. "You shouldn't be here", she added. 

"I couldn't let you hide in here forever, couldn't I? Besides, that douche doesn't deserve any of your tears." 

His thumb whiped away a stray tear. 

"I don't understand. How did you know I was here?" 

He smiled at her kindly. Though it wasn't all kindness she saw. Or was she wrong? Sansa didn't even know what to think, she was too emotional. 

"I knew you had a party tonight and I came by to check on you, to see if everything's alright." His fingers collected a loose curl of her hair, moving it behind her ear gently. "And then I heard you cry. I can't stand when you're sad. You're far too precious and lovely. Nobody has the right to hurt you."

Sansa looked at him through her teary eyes, a deep blush forming on her cheeks. She suddenly was thankful for the darkness around them. Somehow she didn't want him to see her blush in this situation. 

"Can we...I mean, I want to get out of here. Please." What felt like an impossible task to accomplish was now a must. She had to get out. Or else - 

"Sweetling, don't let such a stupid little shit ruin your birthday. Let me make it all better, ok?" 

She stared at him wide-eyed. Partly because she couldn't believe what that last sentence implied, partly because the implication made her stomach twist in this familiar kind of way. She felt her palms getting moist, her heavy heartbeat in her ears. 

"Uncle Petyr, I..." She couldn't end her sentence. She didn't trust her voice. Hells, she didn't even trust herself anymore. 

"Please, just call me Petyr." His fingers wandered to her chin, gently lifting her face some more. "It doesn't feel right when you call me your uncle. I'm not. At least not through blood."

Wrong. That's what all of this was. How did her evening turn into this? How did her longing, her crush for Joffrey turn into jelly knees and this damning tingle between her legs? She thought about all the past situations in which Petyr had been near her, driving her mad with his presence, even if all their encounters had been innocent. They had been, hadn't they? His hand at the small of her back, guiding her to the dining table for her aunt's birthday. His hand brushing hers while handing her a plate. His smile whenever he saw her. It was all just kindness, wasn't it? Or far away from that. 

While he just looked at her, maybe trying to find out what she really thought, it dawned on her. 

Forgotten was her disappointment, her utter embarrassment of being left alone in her closet, at her own party. She remembered that one night after her aunt's birthday last year. That night in which her delicate hand had wandered beneath her skirt in the bathroom to pleasure herself. Thinking about Petyr and how he had complimented her outfit, how she wished his hand wouldn't have stayed at the small of her back. Afterwards she had been so embarrassed and shocked that she had lied about a severe bellyache and had her father drive her home. She couldn't even look at him while saying goodbye. Did he know back then? Did he know what she had done, what she had thought of? Whom she had thought of? She swore to herself never to think about it again, trying to act all normal around him, never to let such a thought, such a fantasy corrupt her. Then Joffrey stepped into her life and made it easy for her to fantasize about someone other. Someone only a year older than her. Someone who was safe to fantasize about. 

"Sweetling." His soft voice brought her back. 

"Yes?" Why did she just say that? 

"You were playing seven minutes in heaven, weren't you?" 

She had adjusted to the darkness by now and could make out his whole form and his face a lot better than minutes (or just seconds?) ago. And what she saw there made her breath hitch. So she just nodded, hoping he couldn't sense her conflicting feelings. Why was everything bubbling to the surface all of a sudden? What was wrong with her? Why did he do such things to her?

"So..." He stepped closer while Sansa simultaneously stepped back. But because her closet wasn't that big, her back hit the wall. She was trapped. 

"Do you want to hear a secret?" Petyr's voice dropped into a deep whisper, even if nobody was home to hear him.

She nodded again and could have kicked herself for it. 

"I know you haven't had a bellyache last year."

Sansa gasped at that. She stared at him in horror. 

"Oh sweetling. Don't be afraid. I heard you, you know? I heard your little whimpers and immediately knew what you were doing. I know how women sound when they're in pure bliss. And also, I thought I heard you call my name when you came. Do you remember?" 

She wanted to disappear into the ground. He knew. He knew all along for over a year. She tried to calm her nerves but her whole body, her mind, screamed silently. She couldn't bare the embarrassment. This was far worse than to be left alone by her friends at her own party while being in this damn closet. 

"Oh, I know you do. And I know some other thing you might not be aware of." He came closer, invading the little personal space that he had left her some moments ago. She could smell his cologne, numbing her senses. God, he smelled so good. 

"I enjoyed it very much to hear you. In fact I want to gift you something special for your sweet 16. A kiss." 

Sansa's gulped at his revelation. She didn't know how she should feel, what she should do. Her mind screamed to kick at him, to flee.

Her body seemed to speak a language of its own. At least when she felt how those expensive panties started to feel very wet.

"Just...a kiss?" Her voice sounded nothing like her own.

Petyr chuckled at her. "Yes, just a kiss."

Sansa closed her eyes again, waiting for him to put his lips on hers. She felt so stupid, so little, so aroused.

But when she felt his hand retreating from her face and nothing happened, she opened her eyes again.

"What...what are you doing?" Instead of kissing her, he had knelt down, smirking at her.

"You lovely girl, I meant to kiss you, yes. But not on your beautiful lips up there. At least not right now." With that said, both his hands wandered to her thighs, ghosting over her creamy white skin just below the hem of her dress.

Sansa started to shiver. She couldn't control herself. Couldn't control all those right but wrong feelings. She just let it happen. She let her uncle touch her legs and whimpered when his fingers found its way higher up her thighs, beneath her dress.

The sensation of his touch drove her nearly insane.

Then his fingers found her panties, pulling them down her legs smoothly.

Her breath caught in her throat when his fingers neared her center, touching her most private parts. He ran his index finger through her slit, stopping at her nub. 

"Fuck, sweetling. You are so wet for me."

She could hear his moan even if he tried to suppress it. This low growl made her even more aroused. 

"We have three minutes left, if I ain't mistaken. Let me taste you. Let me make it all better."

She looked down at him, looking up at her. His eyes met hers. She was lost. She couldn't even try to make her way out of this situation. To hell with it, she didn't want to. So she nodded and breathed a sweet "Yes please". 

This was apparently all Petyr needed to hear because he encouraged her to spread her legs some more. Her dress was lifted too. The next thing she felt were his lips which replaced his finger down there. He gave her nether lips an open-mouthed kiss which let her jump and moan loudly. She now was thankful for the wall in her back supporting her. Her hands automatically found his shoulders for support too. 

His tongue darted out to lick her slit from bottom to top, collecting all her wetness, tasting her musky but sweet flavor. 

"Oh Gods", Sansa moaned breathlessly.

Petyr moved her right leg so she could put it over his shoulder. Then he started to eat her out in earnest. She all but collapsed into the wall behind her, her right hand wandered into his soft hair. 

His tongue started to circle her nub gently at first, then he seemed to grow impatient and sped up his ministrations (maybe because having the time in the back of his mind. Three minutes he had said, three minutes until their seven minutes in heaven were over). Sansa moaned even louder, letting her uncle do such filthy (but fantastic) things to her. His beard tickled and burned at the same time, adding another layer of pleasure to all of this. 

He suddenly sucked at her nub while his right hand, which had not been supporting her and holding her dress up, found its way to her center as well. He pushed his middle finger into her as carefully as the situation allowed. 

"Fuuuck." Sansa tried to silence her moans, she really did, but Petyr didn't give her a real chance. He was too good at what he did. 

His tongue circled her nub in a punishing pace while his finger drove in and out of her, again and again. He found a delicious spot within her, massaging it with his finger while pleasuring her with his mouth. He sucked in her nub again, maybe harder than intended but he moaned around her and that's when she broke. 

She came with his name on her lips, the blinding light of her orgasm overtook her. She didn't notice that his tongue collected all her juices. She didn't even notice how harsh her grip on his shoulder and in his hair had been. Only when she loosened it and he put her wobbly leg back down very gently, she knew how hard that blissful feeling had hit her. 

Petyr stood up in front of her. His beard glistened with her juices and her flush face grew even hotter with lust and embarrassment. He collected her face between his hands and kissed her deeply. She could taste herself on his lips and then on his tongue, when he entered her mouth.

After some seconds he retreated again, smiling at her. "Your seven minutes are up. Happy Birthday, sweetling."


End file.
